Battle Born

In water, a bed or home they lie

As far can be from mortal rest

Death will be faced here

The flesh exposed

Still but not silent

And

For in this womb a

In opening heart and body

With the web of medical and mettle

In the

Her love and fight for the battle born

Will end with the shine of her skin

And the beauty of her sacrifice.

In the fevered lights

That stare and watch and wait

Breaking over surgical gloves and masks

Washing over lovers’ hands

The stage light blinding, calling, waiting.

Warlords duel beneath the sky

Fighters wrestle in the ring

And bladesmen’s knives wink in dark of day

But not this fight

Only the body warring with itself

The scream to push and tense and strive

To meet the duty set in sells

For months of care, her hours of hell.

As a star is born

A quark’s spin shift

Or scream adrift

Need-fire

Harsh pressure

Breathes life and

Breeds light within all things

Closest in womb’s wrestle

Body bringing forth

Another body heart-in-hand.

No wreathes of laurels will she see

No goblet set, no crown of fire

But older deeper prizes near

The root and heart of lifetimes dear.

The hosts of chemicals come from

Canisters and hearts

All pumped and place to dim the pain

But not the struggle

As hands cup the cheek of the saviour

That shoulders their burden

The waters of life

The one long broken, the sweat of toil

Run from her before the life swimming into being

Where two decide

And multiply

In the miracle of life

Wrought like all beauty

From something else we rarely see

Sublime. 

By J.W.H. Hobbs.